We all play small parts

We all play small parts

In bigger pictures

That overlap

But do not obscure

The scenes on either side.

Whilst some of our days

Are golden

The sun shining high

In a sky

That has been

Painted just for us,

A landscape

Sprinkled with wildflowers,

Gardens that

Burst into bloom

As we walk by,

Surrounding us

With perfumes and aromas

That tantalise

Our senses

And make us feel

This world

Was made just for us,

We need to remember

Lives are a shared experience

And some days belong to others,

To have designs upon them,

Or try to pull

The ground from

Beneath their feet

Is when we overstep the mark.

Trying to steal a scene,

Take a credit

That is not due,

Ruin the setting

Of a story,

The telling of a tale,

Change the happy ending

To one more centred

Upon you,

Will eventually lead

To diminished returns,

As your dog days

Grow shorter

And the sun moves

Into another sky,

You will be left,

To fall

On the cutting room floor.

Not even a player

And nowhere near

The front or centre of the stage

Anymore.